Custodes Perdidit ex Memorias
by Lawliet Veneziano
Summary: Harry Potter has chosen to follow Voldemort and the wizarding world is falling into darkness. But this story isn't about him; when one light extinguishes another can be born and a would-be Death Eater finds himself embroiled in an ancient mystery. Alongside outcasts, ex-enemies and old allies, will the Dragon choose light or darkness? Only time can tell (Dark!Harry AU)
1. Prologue: That Night In The Ministry

Things just felt like they were swirling around his head and Harry was just barely able to bring himself back out of the deafening silence in his head to note the woman running away.

Laughing.

Taunting.

Singing.

"I killed Sirius Black!~"

The words were all he could hear; it occurred to him that that seemed wrong, there had to be other things going on, voices, cries, screams, fighting, but no. It all was just…gone, and all that got through to the fifteen year old was that voice, that cruel evil voice, echoing over and over, not just in her repetition of them but within his own mind, like a broken record they repeated again and again. "I killed Sirius Black!~"

And before he even understood himself he was off and chasing and trying so hard to curse her. Harry had never really ever wanted to curse someone, never; he wanted to hurt people sometimes, more often lately than he ever knew before. When he looked at Dudley, when he saw Snape, when he was faced with the people who once hailed him as a hero and now looked upon him as a liar; violence was not a new thought to him but a curse? The Cruciatus Curse? It was Unforgivable, it was one of a set with that most henious of curses the Killing Curse; he had not even wished to curse Voldemort and the Dark Lord had killed his parents, made the last four-five years of his life more difficult than he even could explain and was getting away with it because of political bullshit.

But Bellatrix took away Sirius. Sirius, his godfather; Sirius, who had had to be in Azkaban for years for a crime he didn't even get a chance to actually commit; Sirius who spent those years being believed to be the one who betrayed his best friend, Harry's father James; Sirius who had been the only man who for a while Harry had been able to feel like actually cared about him. Not because he was the prophesied savior of the wizarding race, not just because he was his father's son, but because he was Harry. Sirius who had finally gotten out of the house, been able to do something, and now….Harry would never be able to escape the Dursleys and he would never get to talk to Sirius again or walk with Snuffles or see his godfather grin like he did when Harry did something against others wishes or just see Sirius again. And his last memory, his very last memory, set to haunt him forever would be the look on his godfather's face as he was shot by HER, by his own damned cousin, and fell through the Veil. He would never be able to forget and he would never be able to go back and she did that, Bellatrix Lestrange did.

She was still laughing and running about in a gleeful manner when, with every ounce of the pain in his heart, every bit of anger he kept so holed up in his soul, he screamed out, "CRUCIO!"

And with a scream of pain she fell; she collapsed and his wand stayed directed at her, eyes narrowed behind his glasses as she writhed and screamed in pain, no physical effect upon her body but there was no doubt she was in agony. And after a minute he released the spell, letting her catch her breath, and his mind rushed to how wrong this was. But even before she could speak, taunt him more, he spoke it again and set upon her once more with the Torture Curse.

Why did it feel so right? So much anger coursed through him and his mind became clouded; images of every time Dudley had chased him around and hit him when they were kids, and every time Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia had locked him in the cupboard because of something he hadn't been able to understand back then. The time Draco had told on him and Hermione and Ron to Professor McGonagall about being out after hours. How he spent second year being mistrusted and called names because of his Parseltongue ability. Third year when he thought Sirius had been the one to betray his parents and how Marge had treated him and how much he found had been kept from him. Almost all fourth year. And then this year. And with each image, every thought, he shouted "Crucio" again, and again, and again. And each call made her scream and shriek, her body spasming with each new casting and Harry felt his anger just flow, surround him, encase him. And it felt so…good.

"Harry!" His thoughts were just barely cut into by the voice, so familiar but it took a moment to place it. And he lowered his wand to turn, slowly towards the source and there stood Dumbledore. The Hogwarts headmaster was frowning and looked quite concerned; looking at Bellatrix, panting and crying on the ground, he approached and gently reached out to take Harry's wand, "Harry, don't; don't let her poison you."

"Poison him?" said another voice, softer, lower, sinister and Harry glanced behind him to see the other side of this spectrum; Lord Voldemort, in all his serpentine glory, standing by his fallen lieutenant. She reached up to him and the Dark Lord looked at her for a second then gave a thoroughly cold smile before taking her hand, "Bella, can you stand?"

"Th-the b-boy is s-strong," she said and with great difficulty, and much more determination she got to her feet; her smile never faded, she was laughing more madly though before, and she watched Harry with bright eyes, "Master…."

"Yes," Voldemort said and looked at Harry, "Yes he is. More so than before. I must admit to some surprise; I did not really think you would have it in you to actually cast the Cruciatus spell on Bellatrix."

Harry frowned and spoke, calm and feeling odd still. "She killed Sirius."

"Yes she did," the Slytherin heir said and petted Bellatrix's hair, "She has killed many. I myself killed your parents. But do you wish to curse me?"

"Harry get behind me," Dumbledore said stepping forward and the young boy watched the headmaster. He frowned further as the elder wizard drew his wand and yet all Voldemort seemed willing to do was smirk.

Then speak, "Harry? Do you want to come with me?"

Harry furrowed his brow. Was Voldemort kidding? "You murdered my parents. I'm destined to fight you. You tried to kill me multiple times. You killed my friend Cedric-"

"Wormtail killed the boy."

"On your orders."

"True enough," Voldemort admitted and stepped closer, Bellatrix clinging to his arm, "But wouldn't you rather come with me?"

"Harry does not wish to go with you," Dumbledore said and raised his wand.

"Oh really? Let's ask him." Voldemort looked at the old wizard for a moment before turning back to Harry; Harry himself looked uncertain and so Voldemort went on, "I may be evil and dark and I have killed people. I took your parents from you as a child. I have indeed wanted you dead multiple times. But I'm telling you such; I'm an obvious evil before you. Can you say you can trust your beloved headmaster to be so transparent?"

Harry turned his gaze to Dumbledore as Voldemort spoke and continued to speak, "If you come with me I can make you stronger, I can give you further strength. Before I told you I would give you back your family but I see now how wrong that was; no, what you need isn't your old family."

"Harry, don't let him sway you," Dumbledore said but the elder wizard wasn't looking at him and he hadn't.

"You need a new one, you need people who won't hurt you, won't abandon you; come and I can help you nurture your skills, learn to speak Parseltongue properly, learn spells and curses that you could only ever dream of at Hogwarts. I see now I was wrong to try to kill you," the serpentine wizard spoke, in hisses and sweet words and it left Harry's head fuzzy. He wondered if this was how he enchanted his followers, made them follow him, made them so loyal; his handsome face was melted away to show the snake within but there still was Tom Riddle's smooth words and he couldn't help but keep staring at Dumbledore.

Just look at me, Harry's eyes seemed to plead, just once; actually look at me and see me and…. And what? The anger spoke; would it change this year? Would it magically make the summer less unbearable as no one would tell him anything? Would it change the stress he went through when he almost got expelled? Would it fix how ostracized he felt as Dumbledore had seemed to put so much work into avoiding him, and only him, as his fellow students who read the Daily Prophet treated him as if those stories were true? Would it bring back Sirius?

"Harry is a smart boy," the headmaster said and there was so much confidence and there finally, there was the look; he turned to look at Harry and as always was that fondness, that kindness Dumbledore always had and it filled the boy with hope, "You're free to make your choice of course, Harry, but remember; Voldemort doesn't really care for you. And he never can; you are safest with the Order, you cannot let his sweet words distract you."

"Professor," Harry said softly and Dumbledore gave him that knowing smile of his.

It didn't make him feel bad though as he thought at first it might as he raised his wand and spoke calmly, "Stupefy". Dumbledore's eyes behind his glasses widened and Harry watched him fall over, stunned; there was nothing to his gaze though, even as Voldemort laughed and clapped and welcomed the boy to him with open arms. Harry walked over of course and as he did others approached, Remus and Hermione leading the charge over; they had their wands out and pointed once they noticed Voldemort but then Luna cried out for Dumbledore and most of the small force rushed over to the fallen headmaster. Hermione alone though continued to stare over, her gaze on Harry specifically and he glanced at her for a moment too; their eyes met and she opened her mouth to speak but Voldemort, with a victorious smirk, took him into his arms and spoke first, "This is checkmate then."

With that he Apparated away, followed soon by a laughing Bellatrix. There was noise, the busyness of concern and confusion but Hermione continued to stare where once her best friend stood.

She couldn't help the tightening in her chest.

Vene: The title means "Guardians of the lost memories" according to Google (at least that's what I wanted it to read XD). Basically wanted to do a Harry Potter story where Harry, having gone through all that crud from book five/Order of the Phoenix, decides to not go with Dumbledore and his manipulations and go instead with Voldemort.

Nihon: Makes sense when you think about it; Dumbledore didn't really expect him to just go along with everything still despite the old man ignoring him so much and keeping him out of the loop and for what?

Vene: Stiiiilll as you'll see in following chapters, this isn't the end of it. Spoiler: like the title says, this isn't a story about Harry. It's actually about someone else we all know and many of us love

Nihon: And others hate

Vene: Yup!~ Hopefully you'll stick with us and we'll stick with this while we try to make it through everything; we promise to try to make it get interesting sooner rather than later

Nihon: For now we give you the prologue and the first chapter; hopefully you enjoy.


	2. Outcasts Of The Heart and Mind

The train was quieter than it had ever been before but the young man tried to tell himself that this was to be expected and that this was good. Yet still there was a voice, a small murmur in the back of his mind that told him no, it wasn't something to expect and most definitely no, it wasn't something to think of as good.

When Draco Malfoy had come to Platform Nine and Three Quarters, it too had been in silence. Though the war seemed to be going well, their Dark Lord and Master was winning having swayed the Boy Who Lived to his side, there was a seriousness and solemn air that surrounded Lucius Malfoy, a concern that Draco's mother Narcissa tried to no avail to decipher and that left the sixteen year old Slytherin to stare at his father in anticipation of some explanation that never seemed to come. Best he could guess, and there was much to guess at, perhaps it had to do with Harry himself; since the Battle at the Ministry, the boy had been staying at Malfoy Manor under orders from Voldemort and while none of them dared say no, the tension had been palpable. Draco had had more than a few problems with it though every time he looked at his ex-rival, a strange dark sort of scowl on his face, there was a sense of his apprehension being more than having Harry in his house. But his parents had seemed perhaps even more bothered and Lucius quietly looked over the crowd as Narcissa tried to adjust Draco's scarf, an act that once would have made the young man fidget but instead his attention was divided. There were others at the platform, mostly Slytherins, their green and silver garb catching the light as they murmured and climbed aboard the train, pushing what remained of the other Houses. Out of the corner of his eye he took note of a familiar girl, Hermione Granger's expression near incomprehensible as she glanced over at where Harry stood with a group of Slytherins, his new House colors in full view, emerald in place of crimson, silver in place of gold; Draco watched her enter the train as well, leaving his sight but his mind lingered for a moment more before finally he pulled himself away.

"Mother," he said in a low voice, not upset or even truly bothered; it was a muted sort of sound and she frowned before reaching up to cup his face.

"Draco," she said softly and seemed to want to say something but she shook her head before smiling lightly, "Be careful alright? Things are going to be..."

She cut herself off there and he had a few ideas what she might mean but he didnt ask. Maybe he just didn't want to know; instead he nodded and made a slight face as Narcissa made a move to kiss his cheek, the only thing that made him feel like a normal sixteen year old at the moment. He exchanged a glance with his father once Lucius had deemed it appropriate to look at his family again and then made his way to where the rest of the students were, to their ride back to what was once a place of safety, comfort, wonder for all. Now, in this dark time, Draco found himself wondering if that could be still the sentiment.

Bringing him back to the train; the young Malfoy saw students make their way into compartments, closing the door behind them and his mind wandered as his feet moved. Some were noisy, celebrating serpents, laughing, sneering; most were silent though, making for a jarring comparison. The Gryffindors saw him coming and glared with the hatred of lions who saw their kind defeated; Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws choose not to make eye contact. A voice called out to him, told him to join them, yet his feet kept going without a word; he didn't feel like celebrating, he didn't feel like being with other Slytherins. More voices called to him, asked where he was going, laughed as he kept going; they got louder and he wasn't sure why it bothered him but it did. A hand found its way through neat trim platinum hair and finally he ducked into a compartment, he refused to say it was to escape, and he closed the door behind him with a sigh that was much too much relief for his true comfort.

"Draco? What are you doing here?" This voice was familiar, soft and confused and he held himself enough not to jump as he turned to face the speaker.

There were indeed three of them sitting in the compartment already, two girls and a boy; the girls were in his year, one wearing the soft blue and bronzes of the Ravenclaw emblem upon her robes and in the long scarf she wore wrapped around her neck. Long black hair lay over one shoulder in a loosely done braid, haphazardly tied off at the end with a ratty silver ribbon and intelligent, almost too intelligent, crimson eyes looked at him from over the edge of her glasses; a book, the cover faded and worn to the point of being unrecognizable, hung in her long thin fingers and she tilted her head at him as if waiting for an answer. It occurred to Draco that though he knew her, it was hard to forget Tsuki Kokuryuu with her strange eyes and her even stranger choice in friends, they had never really talked much, not to his memory at least.

On the topic of her friends, beside her sat a Gryffindor, the only boy of the trio, and across from her, looking to be pouring over what had to some advanced book on Potions making, was a Slytherin, one he knew well. The semi-outcast, her own black hair was laying untamed, split over her two shoulders and half hiding her face yet still he got the feeling her eyes, golden, almost cat-like in their piercing gaze, were indeed on him again; Natsume Yorutsuki was well known for two things: her high level genius at the art of potions making, a fact that made their Head of House on occasion less harsh on her as perhaps others in the House were, and her friendship with the Ravenclaw Tsuki and the Gryffindor boy Alastair Reinhardt. It returned to his memory upon looking at her a few times that he himself, in a child's display of cruelty, had taken to bullying her as well; a member of his own House, a Serpent she may be, but she was different, a girl who seemed less interested in the rivalry of the Houses than she was in her favorite class or in hanging with the two who as far as any could guess were her childhood friends. Tsuki was one thing but even for a Gryffindor Draco did not like Alastair; the blond haired boy, one eye a pale blue, the other a similar sort of gold to Natsume's, smiled with what seemed not to be kindness but what always struck him as amusement. He was talented with the magical animals, often being the first to run headfirst into whatever new interaction their Care of Magical Creatures professor would bring, and there always seemed to be that headstrong aspect that all the lions had around him, yet still when he looked at Draco it felt like ice was running down his back and even as he looked up at the other boy, still absently petting the large chocolate colored Maine Coon sitting in his lap, there was a sense he was more looking through him than at the Slytherin.

Draco tried his best to ignore them all though he wondered what kind of luck it was that he would happen into the compartment of three of Hogwarts' biggest misfits; they were easy enough to ignore when one didn't interact much with them, but face to face with them it was harder to do so. Harry's group was one thing but no one as far as Draco could think much liked to have anything to do with Slytherin's Potions prodigy, Gryffindor's dark lion, or Ravenclaw's crimson bookworm. They just needed a Hufflepuff and they'd have a full set. He set himself down beside Natsume where there was an empty space and set his bag between them, almost like a barrier; there was a noise from her and he raised an eyebrow.

"Nice to see you too Dragon," Natsume said her voice clear and tinged with some annoyance.

"I don't remember giving you permission to call me that, outcast," he said; in the past it might have been with disdain he called her that, venom and disgust, but it was weak now, flatter and lacking in emotion. He was tired he decided, that was all.

"Considering you slipped into our compartment looking like you were trying to run from dementors, I'd almost say you're the one feeling like an outcast right now," Alastair said with the usual amusement, a smile playing at his lips that drew a glare from Draco; he simply chuckled lightly and cooed at the cat, scratching them behind their ears.

"Shut up," he muttered, a weak sort of argument.

"Alastair, behave yourself or I'll take Charlie from you," Tsuki warned and almost as if to uphold that threat the cat lifted itself from his lap, stretched and strode over to hers, plopping itself down into a pile of fur and purring that made her smile gently and stroke it's fur, "Nevermind."

"I'm hurt," the golden haired boy sighed and leaned back in his seat, closing his eyes for a moment.

Draco frowned, shaking his head and choosing not to say anything else. He didn't see a point; he didn't mean to come there and while there was always the choice to leave, a part of him didn't really want to. It had nothing to do with wanting to spend time with these outcasts of course, rather Draco didn't much want to go out there; the quiet that he was trying so hard to convince himself was good, the subduedness that he was trying to tell himself was normal, and truthfully Alastair's words, ringing in his ears.

Natsume seemed content enough to ignore him, flipping the page on her book and returning to studying whatever new concoction she was planning on trying out once they did arrive back at the school; a soft noise seemed to signal Alastair falling asleep and Draco was convinced that he would be left to his own thoughts, a prospect that truth be told made him more anxious than thankful. But the sound of a book closing and a low voice speaking to him pulled him back.

"Is everything okay?" The question sounded stupid and he found himself staring once more into Tsuki's eyes, something that left him feeling awkward. He hated that and he turned his gaze away again, towards the window as the train started down the countryside, a pathway that it had taken so many times before yet today seemed so much more different than he felt it ever had been.

"What do you care?" He asked her and she shrugged some, sitting back in her seat much like her companion, one hand on her cat's back.

"Would it make you feel better to call it intellectual curiosity or would you be willing to accept concern from someone you think of as a freak?" Tsuki responding, taking him somewhat off guard and he allowed his gaze to return to her.

For her part she kept hers off him, almost as if sensing how looking her eye made him uncomfortable; admittedly it wasn't like she had been without bullying about her abnormally colored eyes. He took a moment to think it over, decide upon his answer to that question very carefully before finding himself shrugging as well, crossing his arms. "Neither. It feels too much like butting your nose into what's not your business for my tastes."

"And what fabulous tastes they are too," Natsume chimed in, earning a glare from her fellow Slytherin.

"How is it the only Slytherin thing about you is your tongue?" he asked.

She couldn't help but smile at that, a bitter sort of thing and she tucked some of her hair behind her ear, turning her eyes on him. "You assume I have no cunning or ambition."

"You certainly don't have any House loyalty, hanging out with bookworms and Gryffindors of all things."

"Oh yes because my House has given me so many reasons to want to be loyal to them," she responded, scoffing at him.

"Professor Snape certainly has." That seemed to stop her and he smirked triumphantly, watching her eyes widen a bit and her face redden before she started to pout and look back down at her book, fiddling with one of the corners of the current page it was on.

"Professor Snape doesn't seem to care much about who I do and don't associate with so shut up," she muttered.

Tsuki chuckled some. "Draco does have a point though; Snape doesn't tend to be nice to anyone who isn't Slytherin but he's definitely still nicer to you than he ever is to me or Alastair."

"Probably because she's his little Potions girl," Alastair said and cracked open an eye to look at them with a smirk, "Plus Natsu's nicer to him than she is to any of the other teachers or even us sometimes; I wonder why that-Ow!"

A book went flying at his head, hitting his square in the forehead and though the one in her lap was still there, something in Natsume's bristled look, eyes narrowed as she glared at her friend told Draco she was the one who threw it. He blinked, not entirely sure what to make of sure a violent reaction, yet he couldn't help the smile that started to grow, nor the chuckle that formed in his throat, joining Tsuki's. The strangest thing was that it felt like it wasn't the fact that Natsume a Slytherin had done something to hurt Alastair a Gryffindor that made him want to laugh; rather it felt more like it was a releasing of tension, a feeling of something different than darkness and power surrounding him, suffocating him, and it made him feel almost comfortable. On a train full of Serpents wanting to celebrate their superiority, Eagles and Badgers and Lions sitting in solemn silence and fear, and somewhere the Boy Who Lived mingled with the children of Death Eaters and let himself plunge into the darkness more, Draco found himself sitting in a spot of light and the dullness eased up inside him just a bit.

It lingered though, even as Alastair nursed his aching head and the snacks came by; the door opened and Draco was given the chance to leave but he stayed where he was for the duration of the train ride. The trio didn't speak of Harry Potter or the War or Voldemort or anything like it; actually the conversation turned rather scarce though it popped up once in a while, things like the classes they had this year, what new spells they were looking forward to learning, who would be the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher this year, those things came by. For a moment it crossed Natsume's lips a comment about the headmaster and then it died away almost immediately, sticking to the back of Draco's mind even after the train had stopped and the students started to file out of the train and separate back into their groups. And Draco found himself rejoined with the rest of the majority of Slytherin, back with his minions Crabbe and Goyle, with Blaise and Pansy and all of them; his eyes drifted for a second, catching sight of Tsuki climbing into one of the carriages with Natsume and Alastair in tow before being dragged by the hand by Pansy towards one for their group and they were off towards the castle. It didn't escape his notice either the smaller group of eleven year olds, mere children who shivered and clustered before being led off by a smirking man, neither the half-giant Hagrid nor the Squib Filch, and for a second he allowed himself to wonder where those two were. Where in Voldemort's new world did they fit in, where did he?

The carriage ride up to the school was much noisier than it had been on the train; the others wanted to brag, talk about what they did over their breaks, the things they got into. Only Blaise, ever the quiet person, sat and said nothing; Draco found himself sitting next to the boy who scooted away and seemed to be trying to ignore the Death Eater's son at first before turning to him and with a raised eyebrow spoke in a low voice, "You look like hell, Malfoy."

"Thanks," Draco said forcing a bitter smile, "You don't look so good yourself."

"I look as good as usual," Blaise scoffed then continued, "I noticed you looking over at those blood traitors; you were sitting with them on the train right?"

Draco wasn't sure entirely how he wanted to respond to that; Blaise wasn't really like most of the other Slytherins. He hated Muggles too, and Muggleborns, wizards who got along with them, most everyone really; he was definitely a Slytherin but he didn't seem interested in the Dark Arts, not impressed by Voldemort, not wanting to be a Death Eater and reap the benefits of the side that seemed to be winning the Wizarding War. He was an odd one and Draco realized he always had been; he just never paid it much mind before.

He chose his words as carefully as he could think to, "I found myself in the same compartment as them, yes."

"You actually talk to them or were you ignoring them too?" Blaise's accusation would have made Draco annoyed if he actually cared, which he found he really didn't.

"That's rich coming from you, Zabini," Draco retorted and that made the dark skinned boy smile some.

"Well bet they were better company than these fools," the boy spoke and scoffed, looking over at where Crabbe was trying to impress the others with some tale about some Muggleborn he had supposedly helped his father kill, "All they want to talk about is what the Death Eaters have been up to; it's all anyone seems to want to talk about. I can just tell that this year is going to be annoying as hell."

Draco had no response to that; he wasn't too sure how he could do so. And luckily for him the carriage stopped, bringing them to the castle, their destination and their home for the rest of the school year. As that dawned on him, that he would be in that school with these people, with the newly darkened Harry Potter, the changes to the world around them and to Hogwarts itself, there was an odd mixture of feelings in him that stirred and churned as they all climbed out and went into the building and towards the Great Hall.

The tables were the same as always, banners that welcomed the students, spaces ready for new students; along the sides of the room Draco could see faces that his mind told him didn't belong at the school, Death Eaters, followers of the Dark Lord who smirked and sneered as the students filed in, looking with sadistic amusement at them all but most of all the Houses who were not Slytherin. And there were fewer of the same teachers; most notable was the absence of one in particular and as he made his way over to the Slytherin table, seeing Natsume approach as well out of the corner of his eye, he took a deep breath and turned to face the head table, where the teachers were all supposed to be collected. The headmaster's seat, the center spot, his eyes went to it and he was certain he wasn't the only one; he could see the outcast Slytherin girl hold her Potions textbook tighter to her chest as a familiar man approached the podium, black robes billowing behind him as he cleared his throat and Professor Snape, Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, made his first speech.


End file.
